


Purifying a Demon

by JoifulDreaming



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Hair Washing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoifulDreaming/pseuds/JoifulDreaming
Summary: Just a little almost-smutty-shower fic.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Purifying a Demon

Aziraphale found dirty garden gloves on the little shelf by the back door, next to a pair of pruning sheers. Muddy shoes weren’t far away, thankfully. The dirty shirt was in foyer. Trousers, stained at the knees, were on the bathroom floor along with flower-printed pants- a gift from him this past Christmas.

The shower was running and steam had already filled the room. He quickly stripped down and poked his head inside the curtain.

“Room for one more?”

“‘course there is; get in here, Angel.”

Aziraphale gave a happy wiggle and stepped in behind his husband, marveling at all the damp skin on display.

“How do you always manage to time it ssso I’m mostly clean by the time you get in here?” Crowley had pulled him under the spray with him by his hips.

“Hmm, just lucky I guess,” but the wink Aziraphale gave him told a different story, “would you like me to get your hair, dear?”

“Please.” With a nod, Crowley turned his back to him. His hair had grown out in the last couple of years, now hanging long and curly down his back. He wore it up when gardening, but that didn’t mean grime didn’t find it’s way there anyway.

Aziraphale loved his demon’s hair, no matter what form it took (as he loved his form, no matter what gender he presented), but there was something magnificent about the long, soft curls. They glittered in so many shades of red when the sun hit them- even glints of gold-, but continued somehow to shine even in darkness. An occult glow, Crowley had muttered. Aziraphale so enjoyed running his fingers through them. He loved curling up around Crowley at night and feeling the softness between his fingers. Braiding it for his beloved before a day out in the sun and watching that braid bounce and swing as his beloved worked.

Crowley had freckles to match, now, from so much sunshine- a matching shade of red scattered all across his face and shoulders and arms. Aziraphale took a moment to stroke the ones alone his shoulders and neck, watching a shiver ripple down Crowley’s back.

“You’re so beautiful, love.”

“Hmm.” Well, it had taken enough work to get him to stop immediately arguing the point. At least now he got neutral noises, usually. One day Aziraphale might convince him of the truth, but it would take more work.

Crowley’s hair was already damp so Aziraphale reached for the shampoo he preferred, lathering it in his hands.

“Tilt back,” and then his fingers went to work massaging the bubbles in to Crowley’s scalp and the hair at his crown. Crowley, for his part, groaned softly and leaned into Aziraphale’s hands. For a while, Aziraphale’s hands stayed there, gently massaging circles. The smell of Crowley’s shampoo filled the small space: sandalwood and vanilla. Then he worked the suds down to the hair at his shoulders, but stopped. 

“Rinse.” Crowley turned to face him again, tilting his head back in to the spray, and the sight of him, neck bared and dripping wet, was almost too much for Aziraphale. 

“You keep looking at me like that and this shower isn’t going to be about getting clean any more.” When Aziraphale’s eyes darted back up to his face, Crowley was smirking at him.

“Crowley,” and here he swallowed and took a deep, steadying breath, “you undo me.”

Crowley reached- he thought, for him- around him and produced a bottle of conditioner.

“You can have your wicked way with me in a few minutes, if you like- I know I would like- but you’re not finished your task.”

“Right,” Aziraphale was flustered, even after these years, that Crowley could say that so brazenly. “Yes, your hair.”

“My hair.”

“Turn around.”

“You say the sweetest things to me.” But, Crowley turned. And got a swat on the bum for his cheek. “Aziraphale!” He tossed a fake-scandalized look over his shoulder.

“For someone’s sake, tilt back and let me get on with this before I take you against the shower wall.”

“Promises, promises.” But, he did as he was asked.

Aziraphale applied a generous dollop of conditioner to his hands and started with the tips of Crowley’s long hair, working the conditioner up and up until there was only a little left between his fingers to massage into his scalp. Reaching for where it hung on a hook on the wall, he grabbed a comb and started the same process all over: bottom to top, gently combing out any tangles he found until he could run the comb all the way through unimpeded. He picked up a clip and, wrapping Crowley’s now-slightly-floral-smelling hair up in a bun, clipped it in place.

“You’re getting good at this, Angel.”

“And it, well, it has to have a few minutes to soak in now, yes?”

“Mmmhmm…” Crowley had turned around now, his hands drawn like magnets back to Aziraphale’s soft hips.

“So we need to occupy ourselves for a bit.”

“For a tick, yeah. Did you have some thoughts on how to hold off the mind-numbing boredom?”

Aziraphale smirked, hands on his chest as he walked him backwards until his back hit the wall and then leaned up to kiss him deeply and thoroughly, hand trailing down his stomach. Breaking the kiss as his hand found it’s destination he whispered into his ear, “Oh, darling, so many thoughts.”


End file.
